


Where I Am Found

by geckoholic



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aftercare, Bondage, Consensual Kink, Dancing, Dom/sub, Heavy BDSM, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spanking, Whipping, silk rope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 21:01:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17815448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoholic/pseuds/geckoholic
Summary: “Move, Lance,” Shiro says, his voice so fond and gentle despite the ordeal he's putting Lance through and his unwavering, unforgiving command of the whip. “Show me how beautiful your body is when you dance for me.”





	Where I Am Found

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlockWritesShance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlockWritesShance/gifts).



> I went and combined a your prompts "Lance giving Shiro a show using either a rope or a silk hanging from the ceiling and Shiro rewarding his good boy with his dick" and "Lance getting spanked/whipped and tied up so nice and going into a lovely subspace and some wonderful aftercare with a Shiro", I hope you'll like the result!
> 
> Given a once-over by kammileigh und breejah0923. Thank you both!! ♥ All remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> Title is from "The Strength To Let Go" by Switchfoot.

He's in free fall. Not literally, of course; solid ground is but a few inches away and despite the desperate arousal coursing through his body and clouding his thoughts, the blood flowing to his head from the upside down position, his hands and feet still know how to tangle themselves into the silks just so. Dancing is either instinctual or it's hard work, they say, but that's not true. It's always both, and Lance has always been stubborn. 

Another strike at his bare back, a few strands of the whip wrapping around his torso and licking at the sensitive skin on his lower belly, and Lance moans. His body tension slips for merely a second, moving with the delicious pain. He catches himself quickly but it's too late; he lost his hold on the silks with one foot, and for a moment he's suspended in shock, in surprise. The next crack of the whip is more hesitant, less painful, merely a reminder for Lance to pull himself together. 

He swings himself up, producing enough momentum to reach for the upper end of the silk with his hands and breathe. He tangles one leg into the silk, too, biting his lip at the way the luxurious fabric catches on his hard and leaking cock. The respite doesn't last long, though. Two hard strikes of the whip rain down on the length of his back and Lance whines, moans, rubs himself against the silks some more. 

“Move, Lance,” Shiro says, his voice so fond and gentle despite the ordeal he's putting Lance through and his unwavering, unforgiving command of the whip. “Show me how beautiful your body is when you dance for me.” 

Lance tests the strength of his grip and, satisfied it'll hold, he stiffens his legs and swings once more, yet again reversing his position and going head over proverbial heels. Held in position by nothing but the strength in his arms, he bends his knees, wrapping himself into the silk one way, then another, and finally spreading his legs to reveal all of himself to Shiro: his aching cock, wet with precome and a clear indicator of just how hard he's getting off on this, his balls, his hole. If he had one hand free to touch himself then he'd finger himself, hold himself open, give Shiro everything and beg him to be taken. But he doesn't; he isn't even sure he'd be able to cobble together the words he'd need to beg for Shiro's cock. 

The next series of strikes lands on his exposed crotch and Lance cries out Shiro's name, doesn't know whether it's a plea for him to stop or for him to keep going forever. One final hit, well-aimed, biting pain on the sensitive underside of his cock, and then the command that means Lance did well, Lance can rest, Shiro will take over now. 

“At ease, Lance.” The reaction is Pavlovian at this point and Lance's muscles turn to liquid without any input from his brain, making him slide into Shiro's waiting arms with an ingrained trust that comes from the deep, deep knowledge that Shiro will never let him down. Shiro will always be there. Shiro's got him. 

Strong arms lift him up and Lance burrows into Shiro's chest as Shiro carries him over to the bed. He keeps his eyes closed and inhales Shiro's scent, the arousal mixed into it. He imagines the wet spot where Shiro's dick rubs against the fabric of his jeans, imagines it all hard and oozing precome into the denim just from watching Lance, from having Lance at his mercy, from getting to take care of him. 

Shiro lays Lance down with great care, kisses his temple, says he'll be back in a minute and that Lance should just lay back and relax for a moment. Not like Lance can do much more; he cranes his neck to figure out where Shiro's gone off to but his body feels heavy in the best way. He's floating. His heart beats too fast at the momentary lack of contact, a cold and sudden contrast to Shiro's warm and gentle embrace. He murmurs Shiro's name and gets a shushing sound in return. He closes his eyes and lets his hand wander down to his crotch, helping himself if Shiro won't come back to him. 

He barely managed three strokes when Shiro bats his hand away, tsking, and Lance's eyes fly open. 

“None of that,” Shiro chides, standing by the bed. In his hands Lance spots the silks and his mind races with excitement. He lifts his hands over his head eagerly, cherishes the proud smile Shiro gives him. His cock jumps while Shiro ties the silk around his wrists, the confinement exciting rather than scary. 

Once he's done with the makeshift restraints, Shiro climbs on the bed and pushes Lance's knees up, completely exposing Lance to his gaze. Lance stares, watches the hungry way in which Shiro's watching him, and moans. Shiro spreads Lance's legs and leans forward, giving Lance's cock a quick, lazy pump. But that won't be his focus. Shiro licks his lips and Lance whines in anticipation. 

He shivers and wails at the first touch of Shiro's tongue to his hole. He pulls at his restraints a little; not enough to tear them loose but enough to let off some of the pressure that's already building low in his belly. Has been building since he went onto the silks, actually. Patience has never quite been Lance's strong suit. 

Shiro, on the other hand, seems in no particular hurry. He lavishly eats Lance out, licks at him and fucks the tip of his tongue inside and teases at the rim with a finger. The nerve endings in the sensitive furl of muscle sing with the attention, and Lance wants Shiro to keep going, wants Shiro to roll him over and fuck him hard, wants this to last, wants everything _now_. 

Which is why, when Shiro withdraws, massaging Lance's inner thighs with his thumbs as he seems to contemplate his next move, all Lance can get out by the way of a verbal complaint is Shiro's name. He kind of gives up on the second syllable, trails off into another whine, and Shiro squeezes his thighs. 

“What is it, baby?” he says, sounding amused and a little breathless, and it's Lance's favorite sound in the whole universe. “Want more?” 

Lance nods, spreading his legs wider, wriggling his hips. “Please,” he manages. _”Please.”_

Shiro reaches for lube and a condom wrapper, both already deposited on the nightstand and within easy reach before they got started. The sound of the lube bottle being popped open can't quite contend with Shiro's voice but it's another familiar and promising noise, making need churn in Lance's veins. He needs more, so much more. He needs to be filled and fucked, needs to feel Shiro deep inside him, needs release. 

“You're so wet for me.” Shiro rubs his thumb over the head of Lance's dripping cock and collects some of the precome gathered there. Lance shivers with the contact, brief as it is. “We could almost do it without lube.” 

Belying his own words, Shiro squirts some lube onto his fingers, and Lance can't fight the little pinch of disappointment. They've done that before, fucked almost dry, but apparently it's not on the menu today after all. He wants to complain, beg maybe, but bites his lips; Shiro is in charge here for a reason. His job is to keep his head clear, to make sure he doles out only as much pain as Lance can take and balance it with pleasure. 

The first touch of lubed fingers to his perineum has Lance wriggling his hips, and he moans as Shiro's fingers slowly slide down to his hole. Shiro reminds him to keep still with a brush of his hand against the side of Lance's thigh, and Lance wraps his own hands tighter into his makeshift restraints. Shiro won't reprimand him verbally, won't command him to do anything, it's all suggestions and taunts, but Lance knows that the more Lance misbehaves, the more he begs, the longer Shiro will draw this out. If he wants to come, and come sometime soon, he better follow Shiro's direction. 

He still doesn't possess the self restraint to keep from fucking himself on Shiro's fingers once he's added a second, a third, relentlessly aiming for Lance's prostate. And Lance is _so close_. Just a little more, just a moment longer... 

Shiro withdraws his fingers and Lance keens in frustration. He leans forward for a kiss, nearly wrapping Lance in half. His clothes chafe against Lance's naked, oversensitive skin, and it's a wonderful reminder that Lance is laid bare, filthy and desperate, while Shiro hasn't yet dropped a single piece of clothing.

Sitting back between Lance's legs again, Shiro taps the side of his hip and it takes Lance's fogged brain a moment to understand what Shiro wants. He goes lax and lets himself be rolled half onto his side, using all the leverage the restraints allow. Lance closes his eyes, holding his breath, and cries out when Shiro's flat hand comes down on his ass, already streaked with welts from the earlier whipping. He tries to count each hit, use it as a distraction from the sweet, sweet pain, but he loses track after the fourth. His cock lies untouched between his legs, dripping ever harder, and his breathing quickens when Shiro rolls him onto his back again, spreads his legs again, and delivers a few last hits to the inside of Lance's thighs, dangerously close to his balls. 

He lets go of Lance just long enough to stand up for a moment, drop his jeans and underwear, kneel back down in front of him, roll on the condom and line himself up. Then he takes hold of Lance's hips with both hands and pulls him closer until they bracket Shiro's body on both sides. Once they Lance seems positioned to his satisfaction, he pushes inside in one long, slow shove, and Lance's vision nearly clouds over. His legs close around Shiro's torso, beckoning, his hands are still tangled in his silky restraints, and it almost feels like he's suspended in mid-air again. There's nothing but pleasure, nothing but Shiro. 

Shiro's hands wander up and down Lance's torso, scratching lightly, seeking and finding all those places where the whip licked more welts into Lance's skin. Shiro's cock inside him drags past his prostate on almost every thrust. Both, in combination, push Lance over the edge. He comes with a loud moan, untouched, relief washing through him and leaving him boneless. He whines with oversensitivity as Shiro's pace loses all its focus and rhythm, now just using Lance's body to get himself off as well, and then whines again when Shiro pulls out and leaves him feeling bereft and empty. 

The bed dips as Shiro gets up. Lance hears him rummage around in the bathroom and bites his lips so as not to cry out for him. He knows Shiro will hurry back, but they have to clean up if they want to avoid a bigger mess in the morning. He screws his eyes shut to the tears from spilling, feeling ridiculous for being this lost after mere minutes. 

Shiro returns with a warm washcloth, a juice pack and some crackers, and salve for Lance's welts. Naked now, too, he frees Lance from his restraints, he feeds Lance a few sips of the juice and a couple crackers. He then rolls Lance onto his side, curling around him from behind while he cleans up his crotch. He's whispering praise and reassurances into Lance's ear and even though Lance is too far gone to make out the individual words, he understands the basic sentiment. He did well. Everything's okay now. Shiro loves him and he's so very proud of him. 

Lance drifts. Shiro moves on to the salve, and the slight twinges of pain as he applies it to the welts hardly manage to break Lance's peaceful haze; he falls asleep before that ordeal is even over.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://lostemotion.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/spacenerdz).


End file.
